


The Midnight Children of Deep Hollow

by retrowavesasquatch



Category: Furry (Fandom), Night In The Woods (Video Game), Original Work
Genre: Clydesdale, Goat, Goblins, M/M, Masturbation, Paranormal, Trans Masc Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25127389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrowavesasquatch/pseuds/retrowavesasquatch
Summary: Jody Riggs moves to Deep Hollow County, and discovers there's something strange in the woods.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	The Midnight Children of Deep Hollow

Jody Riggs moved to be isolated. Isolated but not remote. The cabin listing touted a creek view, wrap around porch, and idyllic location right off the parkway. The place was situated smack-dab between a coal mining town dying a slow death, and a city so small he wasn’t sure how it could hold onto that classification. It was more of a collection of restaurants and shops surrounding a college.

Another cabin was a stone’s throw away, separated by a patch of forest they shared on the side of the mountain. A split boulder marked the halfway point, or near abouts. The little a-frame was more porch than cabin. An early 90s model SUV sat parked beneath a birch near the front door. The left rear passenger tire needed some air, and from his driveway he could see that the dark blue paint could really use some wax.

The first few nights in the new place left Jody exhausted. At sunset, the little cabin across the way lit up, but he never saw any movement. The same time every single evening, like clockwork, or as if on a timer. The truck never moved, and he never saw signs of life. So he went about with the assumption that it was a vacation home, automated to deter burglars and squatters.

The light didn’t bother him. His bedroom window faced away from the other cabin. That first night, haunting calls and the occasional scream of something small kept him awake until dawn. He brought it up casually with the cashier at the grocery store, and she waved her hand “oh it’s just owls, honey. Didn’t you have them back where you’re from?”

“Not like this.”

It put him behind on construction. He wanted the workshop up before the start of winter, but by the time the first frost hit, only the foundation, frame, and roof had been finished. He’d just put down a layer of sealer on the concrete when a hard rain hit. The next morning he woke to tiny icicles hanging from the eaves. Everything was treacherously slick. Used to the gentle hills of Lavina, Jody stayed in. He wasn’t confident in his balance, and his cell’s service was spotty at best. It’d just be his luck to not have a signal if he fell.

At least he had plenty to keep him entertained once the satellite got installed. The signal was in and out on cloudy days, but it was enough just to have some background noise that wasn’t his own voice in the cabin. Not to mention the local paper had a section on sightings. He signed up just for that: Bigfoot, goblins, hairless kids, alien mine bases, lights in the forest and sky, claims of missing hikers that somehow never made the local news. Jody had always loved reading about the paranormal.

At the kitchen sink one morning, he watches a pickup truck pull up to the a-frame. A ruddy haired wolf steps out, and begins unloading groceries from the covered bed. Curious, he lingers with the faucet still running, as the wolf rings the doorbell. The door opens, but he never catches a glimpse of anyone inside. The wolf transfers the bags just past the threshold, then hands his phone off, possibly so his mystery neighbor could sign for the delivery.

At least I’m not alone out here, he thinks, but sees no more signs of life for the rest of the day.

That night, out on the back porch wrapped up in a heavy cardigan over sweats and an old t-shirt, Jody looks at the tumbler of whiskey in his hands. This shirt needs to be tossed, he realizes, when he notices the holes. They aren’t going to get any smaller, but it is comfortable. Too comfortable to be thrown away.

In the dark, while the whiskey warms his belly, he sits and wonders about how things would’ve turned out had he been more impulsive. Would he have stayed in France? Stayed in that little cottage with someone he met by happenstance at a cafe?

An owl hoots somewhere close by. His ears turn towards the sound, and he glances that way shortly after. All he sees is a forest getting darker and darker, and bare, empty branches.

The whiskey and owl are forgotten as the little a-frame across the way lights up. Normally he wouldn’t pay it no mind, but he catches sight of a little shadow by the big windows overlooking the porch. There’s some guilt in watching someone unaware, but he’s curious enough that he forgets it as quickly as the glass in his hand.

At this distance, it’s difficult to make out details, even with the benefit of the string lights hanging around the railing. His eyes are good, but not as good as they used to be. He can see the upright horns and sloping face of a goat. In a leather jacket and too short for the weather shorts, they step out onto the big empty porch. Long ears, partially obscured by a thick shaggy head of hair, move this way and that, listening. There’s a deer-like nervousness to them, as if they’ll bolt at the slightest sound or movement. Could it be the dark, or maybe they’ve had problems with burglars? There’s bound to be some reason those lights stay on until sunrise.

A flash of a lighter casts a faint orangey glow around the goat’s face as they light a cigarette. He watches as the goat leans against the railing, and exhales a long plume of smoke that the wind carries his way. It’s been so long since he’d smoked. He’d given it up when he traded his big rig for carpenter’s tools. Too much of his surroundings were fire hazards to be worth keeping up the habit.

It’s then he decides to be neighborly, once morning comes. Jody never was the holler across the way type. He’ll bring a gift, after visiting of course. He’d hate to bring something over, only to learn they have a food allergy.

From a few feet above his head the owl hoots again, breaking the silence, and making him jump. “Son of a god damned bitch,” he tries in vain to catch the glass, but hears it thump against the hardwood. It rolls across the porch, but doesn’t crack. There’s no owl perched on his roof like he was expecting, only empty branches hanging overhead. The goat is gone when he turns back towards the cabin.

A dream of bright beaches, and a long smiling face brought about a dreary morning. He still misses Clém. He misses the phone calls. He even misses the ache afterwards, knowing neither of them could afford to make it work. It’d been for the best that they didn’t speak again. It makes things easier, in a sad sort of way.

He’s hard. The box of tack and toys sits at the front of his closet. Jody sighs as he looks at the closet, and ignores it.

To busy his hands and mind, he bakes a cobbler. It sits, cooling and uneaten on the stove top while he drinks coffee. Everyone likes blueberries, right? He’d never met anyone allergic to them. It’d be wiser to ask beforehand, but he still wraps the glass pan in foil, and picks his way through the trees towards the cabin.

With the morning sun trying to break through the gray clouds, it leaves the forest in a light fog. Jody takes his time, not wanting to slip on the damp leaves and pine straw. It’s chilly, but pleasantly so. The underbrush is withered, leaving large gaps between the trees. He could look down the incline, and see the hazy outline of the creek below. He still isn’t used to the thin air, and his deep inhale leaves his lungs wanting. I’ll get used to it eventually, he thinks. Just have to put up with feeling out of breath for a little while longer.

At the cabin steps, with his heart hammering, the door opens only a hair. It’s the sort of open that feels like the door will slam in his snout any second. He can’t see their eyes through the bangs. His ears swivel forward as he strains to listen to their soft voice.

Introductions are awkward, they always have been for him outside of business transactions, and it’s no different now. But, he does learn the fellow’s name is Julian, and that he does, in fact, like blueberries.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to your morning then.” He says, and rubs his neck. He tells Julian that he’ll stop back by in a few days to pick up the pan. The offer to bring it back to his place is left unsaid.

The day stretches agonizingly long. Night is slow to arrive, and every so often, he catches himself glancing out the kitchen window. Jody doesn’t know what he’s hoping to see. Movement? The truck starting? It’s a strange giddiness he hasn’t felt in a long time. Not since that first date with Clém.

You don’t even know if he’s into guys, let alone old nags, he tells himself. He catches his reflection in the microwave door. His mane is getting long, and the fur’s shaggier now that the weather’s decided to stay cold. Even in the distorted and dark reflection, he can see there’re more white hairs than he remembers. They’re creeping up his neck, and speckling his cheeks.

That brief interaction makes the loneliness all the more apparent. Itching to not be alone with himself, Jody ventures into civilization the next morning. However, he soon finds he’s anxious to get back home, and away from the crowds. The main street is full of students and tourists alike. It’s that time of year when folks flock to the mountains to see the leaves turn, to buy apples and honey at roadside stands. He already has four jars sitting on his window sill above the sink. He didn’t particularly like honey all that much, but they were pretty when the evening sunlight turned them to glowing amber.

He’d bought more apples than he could eat, out of guilt over the roadside stall’s lack of customers. They’ll go soft long before he can reach the bottom of the bag. Having never met someone who didn’t like apples, he bags six of them, and makes his way to the cabin. He’d forgotten to wrap his hooves, and the dry brambles snag his feathery hair.

With the sun setting, the shadows of the trees grow long. The pleasant chill of the afternoon is gone as the cold finds every gap in his shirt, every strained button and threadbare patch. It’s inky black down where he knows the creek flows. It’s poor timing trying to visit this late in the evening, but if he put off bringing the apples, he knows he’ll talk himself out of it until they got mealy.

Above him, an owl hoots as he walks past the boulder. “A bit early for you, eh?” He looks up in the direction of the sound, but finds nothing. Just pine, birch, and oak branches, crisscrossing the orange and pink sky. He wonders just how many owls are in the area. It’s a good place for them. Plenty of trees, and plenty of little scurrying dinners that were attracted to the garbage cans and compost.

At the door, he tries to shake the pine straw and leaves out. It isn’t that he’s expecting to be let in. He just wants to look presentable. Julian answers before he could do more than kick his hoof.

The crack is wider now. Before, he’d only seen a sliver of a black furred face, and a mass of brown hair. Now he could see a slender arm, long leg, and soft looking clothes. This time Julian actually smiles. It’s a slight thing, like his voice, as he confirms he does like apples. He apologizes that the pan isn’t ready. He’s still working on the cobbler, and asks if he needed it. “I can put the rest away, and wash it for you, if you don’t mind waiting?”

“No, no. Don’t you rush. I’ll just come back by later.”

At the boulder, he stops. Oh you stupid piece of shit. That was an invitation in. He looks back to the lit cabin. He can see Julian moving around in the upper window. It’s too late to turn back. He’d missed the chance.

The urge to return the next morning is strong enough that he finds himself standing at the door, ready to head out. Instead, he turns around and busies himself with laundry. It’d be weird showing up the next day, right? He didn’t want to seem weird, or desperate for attention. Not to mention the fog is so thick he’d have a hard time finding his way through the woods.

Well, he thinks, Julian probably thinks I’m weird already. Fuck it. He’s not getting any younger, and the fog should start to clear up soon. Before leaving, he brushes out his mustache and beard. Just to make sure they weren’t getting too wild. It needed trimming; but if he stops to do that, he knows he’ll be there all day, fretting over whether he’s looking too polished.

Even as it nears noon, the sun doesn’t make it through the low clouds, and the fog doesn’t lift. The damp air makes the cold really bite deep. He zips his coat up to his neck, and shoves his hands in the pockets. The boulder is just a looming hazy shape to his left, guiding him towards the cabin. His heart is hammering by the time he steps up to the door, and his palms feel clammy when he presses the buzzer. It takes Julian a bit, but the door not only opens, it opens completely.

Jody finds himself suddenly hyper aware of just how much larger he is. The goat’s horns are at level with his shoulders, and those black furred calves are smaller than his forearms. So caught up in this, he almost doesn’t catch the “Jody?”

“Huh, yeah?”

“Did you want to come in?”

There are no excuses this time. He steps inside while Julian mentions having made more cucumber salad than he could eat. This close Julian smells almost medicinal: Herbal, and vaguely minty. It’s a strange scent, but not unpleasant.

The smell is stronger the further he goes into the cabin, but not overwhelming. Before he can stop himself, he asks what it is.

Julian hesitates before explaining that it’s a joint cream, and then apologizes if it’s offensive.

“Don’t you be sorry,” he says quickly, feeling the tips of his ears burning. “It smells nice, is all. Thought you had one of those diffuser things somewhere.”

The initial awkwardness starts to ease off. Jody tries some of the cucumber salad while leaning against the kitchen counter. Julian perches on the opposite side of the sink, and he glances out the window towards Jody’s cabin. They chat about the area, and why he decided to move here. “Eh, needed a change of scenery, and an excuse to downsize my workshop.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, I kept meaning to retire, but I kept accepting clients.” He chuckles. “I just don’t know what to do with myself if I got nothing to do, you know?”

There’s a moment where he almost blows it, as he asks Julian what he does. After finding out that the goat’s on disability for arthritis, he asks about sitting jobs. “There’s plenty of those around.”

“Uh, well, arthritis is only part of it. A big part, but just a part.”

The silence that follows weighs heavy on him. “Sorry.”

“Thanks… for apologizing I mean. Look, I get it. I don’t look disabled. So don’t beat yourself up about it.”

The conversation thankfully takes a hard turn when Jody brings up the local paper. “They should just scrap the whole news business, and just let it be that paranormal column.”

“Dude, totally. That’s the only reason I’ve kept up my subscription.”

A fluttering builds in his chest when Julian practically lights up while discussing the paranormal. This is the first time he’s met anyone who shares the same enthusiasm over alien abduction stories, cryptids, and bizarre conspiracy theories.

“Is there really that much going on in these parts?”

Julian shrugs. “Enough to dedicate a column to, I guess.”

“You ever see anything?”

There’s a long pause, and he notices Julian’s fingers rubbing the hem of his sweater. “I dunno. Maybe? It was a while back, so I don’t remember too much.”

Jody, in an attempt to lighten the mood, tells Julian about the lights he used to see on long hauls. “And don’t even get me started on the shit you’d catch glimpses of on the side of the road. Especially in the desert. Could’ve been the sleep deprivation, or the caffeine pills, who knows; but damn if it didn’t seem real at the time.”

It’s near sunset by the time he leaves. They exchange numbers, though it’s mostly Julian texting him his contact information, and then showing him how to add it. The goat’s slender arm brushes against his, as he leans over to get a better look at the screen. That brief contact sends electricity across his skin, and his cheeks flush.

The next day, Julian didn’t answer the knock. The truck is parked where it always has been, and the curtains are open. The persistent thought of “I fucked this up” follows him home. It churns in his head, swirling into the thought that it is all his fault. If he hadn’t opened his damn mouth without thinking. The world isn’t the same as it was when he was Julian’s age. Jobs aren’t the same. Hell, trucking had changed since he last drove a big rig. And it wasn’t for the better, from what he’s heard.

As night falls, the lights turn on one by one. Jody keeps finding himself glancing back to the kitchen window, to that little glowing a-frame through the trees. He turns the television off and sighs. “Working myself up over nothing,” he says the the blank screen. His vague, stretched reflection looks back at him. “He could’ve been in the shower, or napping.”

The silence that follows his voice prickles down the back of his neck. He’s aware of how alone he is in the house, how quiet everything is now that the tv’s off. It crawls up his mane, pulling at him to look over his shoulder, while the dread starts tying knots in his gut.

He shakes off the feeling. There’s nothing back there except the kitchen, he tells himself. With a snort he rubs the bridge of his snout, and glances at the tv. Behind his squashed shape are two pin pricks of light, the dingy yellow of dirty headlights, over his shoulder.

Jody whirls around to an empty kitchen, and a black window over the sink. No light, no shapes, nothing. He gets up, and looks out into the forest. Cutting through the black shapes of trees is Julian’s cabin, a triangular beacon in the night.

I’m just tired, he figures, and closes the curtains.

Sleep turned out to be hard to come by. After he laid down, he felt that prickling sensation of being watched creeping up his neck. So he got up and made sure all the blinds and curtains were closed. He checked the kitchen window again, and again after making sure the front door was locked.

As the clock creeps closer to 2am, Jody’s thoughts drift to the bottle of whiskey under the sink. No, he can’t fall back on alcohol again. It’s a slippery slope, and he’s come too far to fall back down it. So he tries the only other thing he can think of to make himself sleepy.

His heart isn’t in it at first, and his cock is slow to respond. It’s been slow for a while now. He stares at the ceiling, and finds that his thoughts keep drifting to Julian. He hadn’t been wearing a bra or binder during the visit, and Jody couldn’t help but notice the faint outline of rings piercing prominent nipples. He’d been wearing a loose t-shirt when he opened the door to let him in, and the cold must’ve gone right through the thin fabric.

Guilt plagues him as he wonders what his mouth would feel like. The soft looking, sparse mustache and tuft of a beard, how would they feel?

Instead of relief, he feels ashamed of himself as he wiped the come off his belly. Just because he and Julian shared similar interests, didn’t mean anything beyond that. It’s not like he ever asked, or indicated he’d like to be more than friendly neighbors. Jody looks at the phone on his nightstand. Other than a snow storm warning, the screen hadn’t lit up all day. He picks it up, and taps out a “how are you,” before erasing it. It’s 3:33am. He’d hate to wake Julian up over a text.

As he rolls over to set the phone back on the charger, a thump hits the roof. “Fuck me,” he gasps, and drops the phone on the floor.

Jody holds his breath as he listens to the tap tap of small feet above him. It’s just a raccoon or opossum, he tells himself. Or maybe a fat squirrel. He had been leaving out treats on his porch, just to watch their antics.

He slowly gets out of bed, afraid that the slightest creak or bump would scare whatever it is off. Mindful of his hooves, he follows the sound across the cabin. It’s above the bathroom now, and he opens the blinds just enough to see through. He can barely make out the front of his truck in the dark, but he knows it’s there, parked under the shelter he built off the unfinished workshop.

Jody leaps back from the window when a little gray shape drops from the roof. When he looks back out, he sees nothing.

Heart pounding, he puts on a pair of sweatpants, and grabs a flashlight. Shirtless and in the cold, he walks around the cabin. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to find. Near the bathroom window, he scans the ground, and finds tracks. Little three toed tracks. They weren’t like any bird he’d seen. Too round for that, he thinks, and squints down at them.

Despite the cold, and the snow beginning to fall, he goes back to get his phone. Jody takes some photos of the tracks, which vanish once they reach the gravel he’d spread over the driveway.

He switches the flashlight off as he steps back onto the porch. “What the fuck?” His ears flatten against his skull as he looks out towards the creek. Through the trees he can see a faint green light. When he shines the light down, it vanishes, but reappears once he sweeps past it.

With the flakes getting larger and falling quicker, he isn’t about to try and go investigate. Not alone, anyway. So he tries to snap a photo. It’s barely visible in the picture he takes, but it’s there. Just a black mass with a little green blip. Well, at least I got something to show for it, he thinks.

The most he does is doze, then jerk awake once he realizes he’s starting to drift off. By 6:30, he throws on a shirt and coat, and makes his way to Julian’s. It’s not until he knocks that he realizes just how early it is, but it’s too late now. He can hear the sound of Julian’s hooves on the hardwood.

Despite how he must look, disheveled and wild eyed, Julian lets him in. Jody shows him the pictures, and tells him about the light in the woods.

“That’s foxfire,” Julian says, pointing at the blurry green dot. “That’s weird though. It should be too cold for it.” The foot prints, however, he can’t explain. Jody notices how Julian tenses, and how his floppy ears press back.

“Have you seen anything like these before?” He cautiously asks.

“Yeah. It’s been a while though, and it wasn’t here.” Julian’s hand lingers around his throat, his fingers tugging at the thick fur. “You’re sure you saw something?” He asks after clearing his throat.

“It was definitely something that jumped off the roof. Quick little fucker too.” Jody frowns as Julian presses his fingers to his lips and coughs again. “Hey, you alright?”

“Fine.”

He isn’t. It’s hard for Julian to hide the way his fingers shake, or that he keeps touching his throat and coughing. Jody recognizes it as a panic attack starting to take hold. He used to have them a lot, before he found out the caffeine pills were exacerbating his anxiety.

In an attempt to distract Julian, he asks how he should go about submitting the story to the paper. The shaking doesn’t ease off until well after Julian helps him compose the email. They decided it’s best to use pseudonyms, for peace of mind, and to keep the enthusiasts from paying unwelcome visits.

“About yesterday,” Julian says, closing his laptop, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer the door. I just… Sometimes I run out of energy. Being alone recharges my batteries.”

Jody smiles, “I get it, but could you give me a head’s up when it gets to be about that time?”

He’s worried asking that was rude, but Julian agrees. He’s used to setting an away message, he explains, and it’d slipped his mind that Jody didn’t have anything to do with social media. They sit on Julian’s couch that afternoon while he walks him through downloading the app, and setting up his account. “The cell signal is shit on this side of the mountain, but if you got wifi, you can reach me here.”

The paper publishes his story two days later, spelling mistakes and all. He regrets not letting Julian type it up for him, because he’d never been good with words. He even gets a response from a reader who goes by BriddlesSecretBunker asking if there were mine shafts or wells near his home.

When he asks Julian, the goat only shrugs. “Probably. There’re mines and caves all over these parts.”

It’s a little more than a month before Julian ghosts again. He anticipated it though. He pushed him just a little too hard, too quick. Somehow he’d managed to talk him into going with him into town. “There’s a new taco place on Main.”

Julian was hesitant, and said his stomach didn’t handle spicy foods too well. So they compromised on the deli near campus, a place Julian missed going to because he lives two miles outside of their delivery range. “I hope they still have the toasted mushroom sub.”

They made it past the grocery store, before he’d noticed how fidgety Julian was getting. He kept rubbing the front of his neck, and stifling a cough. “You alright over there, Jules?”

“No.”

Jody pulled over, and parked outside a long abandoned office building. Judging by the faded sign, it used to be a phone company, long gobbled up by one of the two main providers in the area. Unsure of what to do, he talked. Just whatever popped in his head. Anything to get Julian’s mind off the panic attack that was making his legs tremble, and his throat feel tight.

“I’ll call something in, and we can pick it up. How’s that sound?”

That mushroom sub turned out to be really fucking good.

The day after next, he sits on his couch and looks at the phone. The screen is dark, and reflects some light from the windows. Julian’s a message away. Before he can find out whether the goat would actually answer, he puts the phone back down. He doesn’t want to overwhelm him so soon.

Jody leans back in his chair and watches the snow coating the hood of his truck. Since the first night he saw the tracks, nothing new has happened. He’s heard owls damn near every night, but no skittering feet or little gray bodies. That green glow is still there though. He still sees it after the sun sets, fainter now that the snow’s gotten about knee deep.

After ordering a pizza, because he wasn’t about to make the drive into town, Jody decides to venture down to the creek. He’d looked up foxfire after Julian told him what it was, and found himself curious about it. So, once he’d packed away a few slices and chased it with a beer, he grabs some gloves and pulls a cap over his head.

The snow makes the descent down treacherous. Jody finds himself sliding and stumbling, more than walking. It’s already close enough to night that he can see it, the green light glowing in the dry brambles. He’s glad he thought to bring his hatchet, and starts clearing the thorns so he can get a closer look.

Pulling away brittle vine after vine of briars, he uncovers the source: A fallen tree, half buried in snow. Moss and the typical shelf-like fungi cover it, but it’s dry and decaying like the tree. However, there are clusters of wrinkly glowing fungi near the bottom. The snow had killed a lot of it, so only a small patch remains. He considers, briefly, taking some and bringing it home to stick in a jar. Something in the back of his mind tells him that that would be a terrible idea. It could be poisonous. Or unnatural.

He pulls a glove off so he can unlock his phone. The screen blinds him for a second, reminding him of how dark it’s getting. Jody blinks a few times to clear his vision, then takes a few pictures. Someone might find it interesting. Maybe it’s a new strain that’s resistant to cold?

As he’s about to put the phone back in his pocket, it starts going off. It’d been so long since he last heard it ring, that the chime and vibration makes him jump. When he sees “Jules” on the screen, his heart quickens it’s pace. “Acting like a damn teenager,” he mutters to himself.

Jody’s expecting a light conversation, or perhaps Julian needing help with something around the house. At worst, he’s bracing to be told to keep his distance. It’s none of those. Julian’s voice is halting, panicked, and Jody’s climbing up the hill before he can finish asking him to come over. He doesn’t say why, just that he’s afraid to be alone. 

Staying on the line so he can hear that he’s on his way, Jody plods his way towards the cabin.

He’s glad to have the phone pressed to his ear. Even if Julian isn’t speaking, it’s still comforting to hear the intermittent cough. If he’d made the trek in the dark, in silence, it’d be down right creepy. The dark shape of the boulder looms beside him as he passes it. Jody’s fur stands on end, and he shakes the feeling away. It’s just a rock. It’s just the dark. Being in the woods at night would spook anyone.

The uneasy feeling doesn’t go away when he steps up onto the porch. He hangs up, and listens to the tapping of Julian’s hooves. The poor fellow looks like a mess, and he can see one of his big green eyes through a part in the bangs. He’s all but dragged inside, as Julian’s slender fingers grab him by the jacket, so he can shut and lock the door behind them.

This is the first time he’s seen Julian’s bedroom. The door’s always been shut when he visits. It’s peaceful, and lacks any clutter beyond the books stacked haphazardly on the nightstand. He sits on the edge of the bed next to Julian. Before long, the goat is up and pacing as he talks. His speech is fast, and it jumbles as he stutters.

“Take a deep breath for me, Jules. There you go. And another. Now, what was it again?”

“I- it’s stupid. I’m sorry for bringing you into my mess.” He folds his arms over his chest, and looks anywhere but at him. “It was probably just a nightmare. It’s been a while since I’ve had one that bad. It felt so real.”

Jody eventually coaxes him to sit down, and scoots over so Julian doesn’t feel crowded. With his legs crossed, and hunched forward, the goat looks tiny beside him. He wants to reach over and put a hand on him, but he isn’t sure if that’d be welcome.

“Do you want me to get you a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke in the house.”

“We can open-“

“No!”

Julian’s never raised his voice before, even when they had that passionate argument about whether retrowave was good or just coasting off nostalgia. It startles Jody to hear such force from Julian.

The goat covers his eyes with trembling hands, and apologizes. Once Jody assures him that it’s fine, he finally opens up about why he called.

“I woke up. I couldn’t’ve been asleep for more than an hour, but something just compelled me to open my eyes and look at the door.” He nervously glances at the bedroom entryway. “I felt like something bad would happen if I closed them again.”

Julian says that he wasn’t sure how much time passed, but suddenly the bathroom light down the hall went out. “It wasn’t a bulb blowing. I heard the switch click.” He talks about staring at the dark doorway, and watching as these little figures appeared. He describes them as vague outlines, darker than their surroundings. “They were peeking around the edge of the frame, watching me. I couldn’t see their eyes, but I could feel them. They moved like stop motion, you know? All janky and weird. I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t move. I had to lay there and stare right back until they were gone.”

He describes the feeling of a weight being lifted off him, and he was then able to reach for his phone.

To Jody it sounds like sleep paralysis. He’d heard about it while watching UFO documentaries. It’s one of the explanations for abduction experiences. Though he doubts that’ll put Julian’s mind at ease. Instead, he says he’ll take a look around. “To give us both some peace of mind, eh?”

He leaves Julian in the bedroom after sticking his head in the closet. Jody’s hoping it was sleep paralysis, or maybe a critter managed to sneak it. It makes him feel a little better, but the imagery of something unnatural and watching hangs at the back of his mind. The shapes Julian described were about the size of that little gray thing that jumped off his roof.

The bathroom is the first stop: The source of the trouble. He checks the switch, and makes sure the bulbs are screwed in properly. Nothing seems amiss. He peeks behind the shower door, and under the sink. As he stands back up, he notices the counter is lined with toiletries and a few prescription bottles. His cheeks flush when he realizes Julian’s left a vibrator out on the counter, plugged into the outlet on the wall.

He puts it out of mind, and heads out into the hallway.

Despite his frequent visits, he’d never seen the entirety of Julian’s home. Just the kitchen, bathroom, and living room. As he climbs up to the loft, he finds a cozy reading space, or office. He isn’t sure which. The cushioned furniture, pillows, and chunky throw blanket were inviting. It’d be nice if the black triangular window didn’t form a void behind the backless couch. When he looks at it, his reflection stares back: A nag in an unflattering jacket and grungy hat, two months shy of 50, and going soft in the middle.

It’s just the dark, he tells himself, and heads back down to the main floor, unable to shake the sensation of eyes on his back. You’re just spooking yourself. It’s all those damned shows, making you paranoid over nothing.

The last place he checks is a closet in the hall. He’d walked right past earlier without noticing it. When he opens the door, he finds a nice washer and dryer stacked on top of one another. On the opposite wall is the breaker box, and at the back, a knee high door with a sliding bolt lock. It’s opened just a crack, and he can feel the cold air tickling the feathers at his ankles.

“Hey Jules, what’s this go to?” He calls across the hallway, as he squats down to get a closer look.

Julian leans through the doorway, lifting on hoof tips to see over his shoulder. “It’s how you get under the house. The builder put it there, in case a mudslide or the snow blocks the entrance under the porch.”

“Smart,” he responds as casually as he could. There’s just something about that crack that bothers him. Julian didn’t seem the type who’d leave it unlatched; not with how he was about the lights, and the locks on his front door. He doesn’t say it was unlocked, and simply slides the bolt back in place. Maybe he just forgot, or the cold weather made the bolt loose? Maybe he accidentally kicked it while doing laundry? It’s not a sturdy lock.

He looks at the little door, and a feeling of dread drops into the pit of his belly. It’s nothing, he tells himself, and goes back to the bedroom after closing the closet door behind him.

It’s never asked, but he stays with Julian for the rest of the night. He props himself up against the headboard, while Julian plays a game. It’s relaxing watching him. The soft music and pretty visuals help ease some of the tension. It almost makes that prickling sensation that crawls along the length of his mane go away.

Every so often, he finds his eyes drawn to the big french doors that open onto the back porch. He never sees anything beyond the railing. It should be cheery with it’s string lights, and the snow laden branches. Instead, he finds himself wondering what’s beyond the lights, or what could be lurking beneath the cabin. What could be behind that little door?

To try and take his mind off of those thoughts, he asks Julian how to play.

Once the sun begins to rise, the uneasy feeling starts to fade. He’d been so wrapped up in rationalizing why he’d been so spooked, that he’d never noticed Julian had fallen asleep. The goat is curled up against him, the little pink console is trapped between his thigh and Julian’s knees. His bare knees, and bare legs. Jody blushes to the tips of his ears when he realizes Julian’s been in nothing but a pair of underwear and an oversized sweater.

Stop it. It’s not like you’ve never seen bare legs before, he chides himself.

Julian stretches, and scrunches his nose when the glare off the snow hits his face. He yawns, and sits up. For a moment he looks a bit disoriented, then notices Jody. “How long have I been out?”

Jody can only shrug. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Did you stay awake all night?”

Jody’s back pops as he sits up, and he groans. “Yeah.” He says with a wince. His neck is stiff as he pries himself from the comfortable mattress and warm blankets.

Over coffee and instant oatmeal, Julian talks about the nightmares. “They’re always in a doorway or a window, just watching.” He pushes his bangs back as he rubs at a horn. “Something happened, fuck, almost a decade ago now, but it still comes back like it was yesterday. And every time it does, those things show up.”

He doesn’t pry. Whatever that something was, it’s not his place to ask Julian to relive it.

“Well, I’m just a phone call away, and my door’s always open, if you’re up for a change of scenery. Don’t matter what time of day or night.”

“Thanks.” Julian stirs his hardening oatmeal, and sets his spoon down. “I’m glad you’re here, you know?”

Before he can second guess himself, Jody puts a hand over Julian’s. His thumb rubs the goat’s bony knuckles, and Julian doesn’t pull away.

“I uh, I know you probably want to get back home, and out of those jeans, but I’m… well, if you want to come over for dinner, I’m going to bake some mac and cheese.”

He probably doesn’t want to be alone tonight, Jody thinks. Hell, he didn’t either. Did his cabin have a door like that? He’d never really looked. Trying to keep his tone light and casual, and without thinking, he blurts out: “It’s a date.”

Julian’s ears lift in surprise, but he smiles. “Sure.”


End file.
